


Hobbit short stories (Pun very much intended)

by Gothicpug



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Multi, Shameless Smut, dwarf lovin', elf lovin', late night dribbles, nagging ideas I have to put somewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothicpug/pseuds/Gothicpug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A number of dribbles and short reader/hobbit character tales. some fluff, some smut and some angst. A little something for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I sleep so little and think so much, I have to write down some of the things that nag me in the early hours of the morning when I should be sleeping. 
> 
> We have some Thorin/reader to kick off with. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Loyalty to the king.

Thorin/F!reader.

Nearing the end of the battle of the five armies, you stumble across a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield. You don't have much strength left, but the strength you do have, you use to save your fading king.

-oOo-

Your weapon sliced through the air, the finely crafted dwarven metal singing as it hacked into the bodies of many, many Orcs and goblins.

You'd lost any and all sense of time an age ago, your life in too much peril to care weather the sun had set or the moon had risen.

That's what this was now. A fight for your life.

When you'd first marched from the Iron hills in aid of the dwarven king of Erebor, you'd swelled with pride. The mountain was under dwarven control again and now was the time to defend it to the very end. King Dain Ironfoot had rallied the troops into a roaring, fearless force and you'd been so honored to be part of that. King Dain was a war hero in his own right and King Thorin was right to call for his aid now. 

All that pride and the overwhelming eagerness you'd felt upon marching into battle under the dwarven royal was now a long faded memory however.

So many were dead, on all sides. Their bodies lay all around you as you continued to fight, determined not to join them.

You dare not dwell on it now, but you knew when this was over, if you'd survived, you'd sheer your long braids off in grief...

The battle had started off well. They'd been given warning by Gandalf of the oncoming attack and dwarf, elf and man had banded together to take on the oncoming horde. but despite this, the enemy force had pushed and pushed, the fighting taking over the ruins of Dale and backing you all up against the gates of the great mountain.

Thranduil's elves were a surprisingly great help. They seemed to be relentless in their attempts to drive the orcs and goblins back and it was always a relief to see an elven blade slice through another hulking orc, or a well placed arrow taking out another enemy in one shot.

After hours, maybe days of fighting however, everything was a blur and nothing seemed to surprise you anymore. Eagles flew overhead. Men and elves stood side by side with dwarves. This was a battle that would become legend.

You grunted and spit as a charging Warg grabbed a hold of your shield, violently tearing it from your grasp. It tossed the heavy iron shield aside, as if it were nothing and you are suddenly left to take the offensive.

"'Ave it, you bastard!" You scream, thrusting your blade forward with all your might, just as the fearsome creature's gaping mouth turned toward you.

You drive the blade straight through his open mouth, the tip piercing right through until it protrudes out through the back of it's neck.

There isn't time for the warg to cry out as you pull back, freeing your weapon before plunging it down through the monster's skull.

It's dead before it hits the ground and you step over it without a second glance. Around you, the fighting is fierce, but you seem to stand in a pocket of peace among the chaos.

Your tired eyes drift about, seeing but not. Your ears hear but they don't. You feel like your in a dream. Its probably the exhaustion.

"Uncle!"

And like that, you snap out of it. You turn, catching sight of a golden haired dwarf, his face and body streaked with blood and grim. He's battling tirelessly against never ending enemies, pulling continuous blades to throw or stick into another Orc or Warg.

Beside him, a younger dwarf stands over a collapsed figure. His dirty face is a very obvious mixture of fear and desperation but his arrows never miss.

Everything seems to slow as you squint, you eyes trying to make out the dwarf he's protecting so diligently.

Its hard to make out any kind of facial features under the mass of blackened hair, streaked with grey but you can see he's still very much alive, his weakened hands trying to stem the excessive bleeding from his side.

As if knowing he was being watched, he lifted his watery eyes from his wounds and your eyes lock through the flurry of fighting around you both.

You gasp at the unmistakable Durin blue eyes, startling and breathtaking at the very same time.

Without thinking, you raise your weapon and your feet begin to move toward the three, surrounded by a sea of foes and before you know it, your charging at speed into the fray.

Any sense as to why your doing this is lost. Perhaps it was an overwhelming swell of loyalty to those of your kin. Whatever it was though, you didn't have to time to contemplate it as you began to hack your way through to them.

Your whole body trembles with adrenaline and dread but you don't stop. You can't. You could never forgive yourself if you stayed back and allowed them to become swamped.

You slay another orc and another and another but there are still many.

"Hold on!" You yell, catching the attention of the two dwarves you can now identify as the princes.

"There's too many!" Prince Fili screams over to you, his blades not stilling for a second.

Then, like a breath of fresh air, you breach the wall of orcs and goblins surrounded the three. Its that much of a shock, you gasp, coughing and spluttering as orc blood splashes across your face and enters your mouth.

The taste if foul and you feel the urge to gag raise in your throat, but still, you keep moving.

"Cover me!" You snap at prince Kili as you push him side roughly and grasp King Thorin by the arm. He yells but you don't hear him as you haul Thorin up, slinging his arm over your shoulders while you attempt to drag him to safety.

"Hold on your majesty..." You grunt, your voice breaking. It seemed like forever since you'd last spoken to anyone and it hurt your dry throat, but you had to reassure him. "This might get rough..."

He doesn't say a word, but you can tell he understands and leans into your hold. He's pale and trembling, blood streaming from a deep wound on his side and various arrow holes you can barely see through his tattered armored tunic.

You begin to drag him...somewhere. You don't know where or what was safe. There was so much killing around you. You couldn't see much either.

You begin to panic.

The kings life is in your hands and you don't know what to do. Behind you, the princes are covering your back, trying to defend you both from following foes.

You spare Thorin a worried glance and see his eyes are drooping. You know he can't last much longer.

"Please your majesty." You whisper in fright. Your left hand moves to press against his bleeding side, trying to stop it. "Don't die. You can't. Please."

His eyes open a little wider and his head lolls toward yours, his temple resting against yours. His hair is drenched and is thickened with blood. It hits your face and sticks. It stinks of orc and you feel bile return to your throat.

"Thank you..." You only just manage to hear him murmur as his eyes close.

"Oh no you don't!" The snarl through your teeth. "Now is NOT the time for a kip!" You shake him maybe a bit too violently but you can't help the relief that floods you as his parted lips twitch at the corners in an attempt to smile.

You're that eaten up with the whole situation, you miss the gigantic bear that comes barreling through the hordes toward you, tossing everything in its path aside.

When you do notice it however you yelp in shock, eyes wide as it comes to an abrupt halt before you.

There's something about its eyes that tell you its not a threat to you and the king and with a pounding heart, you nod to it. You tense as it nods back and turns from you. Through the path it has created, you can see the mighty gates of Erebor up ahead and your heart lifts.

That is, until you hear the cry of pain and turn your head to see prince Fili fall.

"Fili!" Kili sobs and tries to drag his brother up.

You suddenly go cold and that sense of dread returns ten-fold.

"You have to help him!" You scream at the bear before you, pawing his way through enemies and allies alike to aid your retreat. "Please!" You beg.

His ears twitch and his attention turns to you and the princes. He doesn't hesitate in turning and stepping completely over you and Thorin, blanketing you both under his furry body.

He collected up Fili under one arm and Kili, who he carefully pushes onto his back. The prince holds on for dear life, his cheeks stained with tear tracks.

In your grasp, you feel Thorin shudder and groan, the arm around your shoulders tightens momentarily and you fear the worst.

You needed to get to the gates.

The bear moves from over you and begins to push through the crowds again, slow enough that you and Thorin can keep up and keep safe but with enough urgency to warrant a sudden surge from the allied forces in your defense.

Dwarves, men and elves race forward, pushing the enemy armies back.

"Here!" You look up to see a bearded man rounding the bear. "Let me help you." He says firmly and carefully guides you and Thorin forward.

"We need help!" He yells, his voice echoing against the mountain as the great gates opened for you. "Thorin is injured!"

You're trembling as you drag yourself and the king inside. His head is resting against yours, his lips against your ear. You can hear his breathing is shallow and you begin to tear up.

There's a outpouring of activity around you all at once and Thorin is ripped from your grasp before you can collect yourself.

You're left standing, a quivering mess, as he's carried away. You're covered in blood and your heart feels like it could break free of your chest at any second but you are silent and you don't even notice the tears that pour down your face.

The bear gently laid down prince Fili not far from where you're stood and Kili climbs down from his back with haste, shouting and begging those around him to help his brother. Just like Thorin, prince Fili is collected up and carried around, his younger brother following closely behind.

"That was a brave thing you did..." The voice seems to drift over your head at first, but suddenly you realize it is the gray bearded man. You turn your watery eyes up toward him and swallow thickly. "You could have died saving him." He says quietly, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

"I would have done it for anyone..." You whisper, your eyes dropping to the floor. It was the truth, it was just a shame you didn't have the chance to save half of your shield brothers and sisters like you'd done the king.

"It is acts of thoughtless kindness that make even the smallest of us more powerful than any army." The man murmured down to you, his hand squeezing your shoulder. "You should get some rest..."

"I can't!" You bleat, your eyes flying upward toward his. "I have to go back out there! I need to..."

"You have done what you need to do..." He cut you off. "Rest now."

You want to argue back as he releases your shoulder. You want to tell him you are a soldier and it is not his place to tell you when to stop. Behind him, the great bear plods back toward the gates, returning to the battle as you should.

But...

You're so tired. You arms are heavy and you are blood stained and beaten. Your heart wants to fight on, but your body can't.

Perhaps he was right...Perhaps you had earned you right to rest.

-oOo-

The battle dies that very night and the last of the orcs, wargs and other foul beings are driven away, hunted back through the forests by the elves.

It is another few days before you hear word of the king. Dain announces to the masses of his troops that King Thorin's life was saved by one so fearless that they acted without thinking.

You are numb to the praise.

Was the life of one worth so many?

There is much rejoicing. Thorin is alive, though very weak. It'll be a long time before he is fully healthy again. The same for the princes. Never the less, everyone is pleased.

Dain says you'll all be staying for another few weeks, just in case. Your kin wonder the beautifully decorated halls of Erebor in wonderment. Many express the desire to stay there after all is said and done and help to rebuild the greatest kingdom Middle earth has ever seen.

You have no such desire however. You don't even know what you desire of late. You were among some of the youngest soldiers to enter battle and it had left its mark on your young mind, as well as your body.

You don't speak to anyone for days and you barely sleep, images of the dead and the dying flooding back to you every time you close your eyes.

This goes on for days. Many around you say your shell shocked.

You sit in the darkness late one night, surrounded by your battalion, all sleeping soundly. You have this nagging feeling that wouldn't leave your mind alone.

You slip from the bedroll and pull on a dark tunic and leather trousers. You don't bother with boots, the cold stone against your bare feet was a welcome distraction.

You leave your hair loose.

You pad through the winding halls of Erebor, not really sure where you were heading. Many of the torches that burned throughout the mountain had been blown out and you shiver whenever darkness fell over you.

"Oin'll be in again in another few hours to check on him. Fili'll need his dressings changed too."

The hushed voices echo through the stone and your feet turn to follow them.

"I'll stay here and wait fer him then."

"You need sleep like everyone else brother."

The corridor your following empties out into a huge round chamber with a great black marble and gold staircase that lead to a secondary floor.

You pause in your exploring to gaze up at the golden decor carved with great care into the ceiling and walls. A great chandelier hangs from the roof, hundreds of tiny candles glowing softly inside a crystal orb.

You mouth opens in awe as the gaze up at it and you miss the attention your appearance gains.

"Oi!"

You jump and stumble slightly, you eyes turning to two dwarven men standing at the top of the staircase.

"What're you doin' in here?!" The taller of the two snarls, his icy eyes glaring at you with intensity.

"Now now brother..." The smaller dwarf muttered through tight lips, his hand patting his brother's arm. "That's not polite."

"I don't care if its polite or not, these are royal chambers!" The first barked angrily.

Royal chambers...

"I wish to see King Thorin..." You're startled by the firmness of your own voice. The two men at the head of the stairs stare at you as if you've grown a second head.

"You've got ta be jokin'..." The taller hisses. Beside him, his brother's eyes narrow upon you and he turns his head slightly in interest.

"Wait brother, wait." He mutters and his brother pauses mid snarl to look at him. "You..." The smaller dwarf hums out, his hand stroking his snowy beard thoughtfully. "You're the one who carried the king back to Erebor. Aye, I remember you."

You didn't even release you'd been holding your breath until it gushed from your nose in relief. You hadn't noticed anyone's face as you'd brought Thorin into the mountain. The smaller of the two must have seen you.

"Her?" The taller spat in disbelief. He turned from his brother to glare at you again, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of you. But you do not shy away. No, you stand straight in fact. You puff out your chest and raise your chin. "She's nothing but a wee bairn." He snorts and you suddenly feel stupid.

"Aye and that's what makes it all the more amazing." His brother smiles and begins to descend the stairs. "You did an amazing thing." His smile grows.

"So I'm told." You breath out, allowing yourself to relax.

He makes his way toward you and you tense slightly as his hand takes your bare arm. "Aye lassie. It was a truly amazing thing. Come." He gently beckons.

You glance between him and his brother, still at the top of the stairs. He's still glaring at you, his arms over his chest but he doesn't say a word.

"Ignore my brother Dwalin." The kindly dwarf beside you offers, tugging your arm to move you along toward the stairs. "He isn't the friendly sort."

You bite your tongue. You didn't want to offend by agreeing with him.

"I'm Balin. Thorin is our cousin." He tells you quietly as you reach the bottom of the stairs. "Dwalin's very protective." Balin says with a wink.

"I heard that." His brother snaps.

"Aye? And what of it?" Balin shoots back with his head held high. Dwalin grumbles but doesn't retort.

You're lead up the staircase and down the corridor straight ahead, great, golden doors looming out of the darkness before you.

"You've earned the right to a short visit." Balin utters to you. You glance between him and the doors warily. "But you shouldn't stay too long lass. The king is very weak."

He stops you at the doors and carefully pushes them open for you.

"In you go lass." He whispers and waits expectantly for you to move. But you don't. You feel awkward doing this. This wasn't what you were thinking when you got up from your bedroll not long ago. You had no right at all to be offered such an opportunity.

You feel a hand on your back and you jump in shock. You whip your head round to see Dwalin nudging you forward without a word.

You cringe as you drop your eyes and step into the king's chambers.

The doors close behind you for privacy but you remain standing stupidly in front of them.

The room is, for want of a better word, beautiful. Dark stone and Marble, inlaid with gems that made the floors and walls sparkly in the light of the roaring fire in the ample hearth across the room.

Your tongue snakes out to wet your lips as you take your first, tentative steps into the room. There are a few fur rugs scattered about, as well as some skillfully carved dark wood furniture. You note an impressive desk sitting in the furthest part of the room, along with some bookcases and an empty bird's perch.

You also note that most things are dust covered, as if they'd not been used in an age.

You climb the two or three steps that lead to a second chamber, no less impressive than the first, before you catch on. This was Thorin's bed chamber.

Here, there are far more rugs and comforts, such as a long, ornate red and gold couch with matching chairs. Dark wood and gold doors caught your eye, one of the doors partly open to reveal a glimpse of a grand dressing room.

You inhale deeply and turn your attention to the most obvious piece of furniture in the room. A magnificent four poster bed with deep red curtains partly drawn to hide its occupant.

You stomach is twisting itself into knots as you walk toward it. You shouldn't be here. It doesn't feel right.

There is a bowl and a pitcher of water on a bedside table to the left of the bed. You frown at the sight of bloody bandages tossed into the bowl, along with medical instruments. They must have worked on him with great urgency, only stopping when it was clear he was safe and off death's door

You creep closer, holding your breath in readiness for the gory scene you might witness.

What greets you however, is a little more pleasing.

Thorin lays on his back, his eyes closed and his hands resting peacefully at his sides. He is bare chested and clean, a bandage wrapped tightly around his middle.

His flesh is peppered with small cuts and bruises, as well as his face. His nose is cut across the bridge and someone had put a couple of stitches in it to close it up. He had a black eye too. but that was the least of his problems.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him.

Even in his battered and beaten state, he is as magnificent as you'd heard.

You bite your lip as you step closer, your feet catching on a soft fur rug. You stumble and curse under your breath. How could you be so clumsy?

A soft sound causes your skin to prickle and your eyes rise to the bed.

Thorin is stirring, only a little, his head turning toward your direction. You're frozen to the spot. You can't breath and you can't look away.

His eyes open slowly. Bloodshot and pained. But they search you out, focusing solely on you.

You look back. Its a surreal moment as you both watch each other in silence. You almost forget he's king of a whole kingdom.

His lips part, his tongue gingerly wetting his tender lips. You copy the action without thinking and then worry your bottom lip between your lips.

"You..." He wheezes, his voice scratchy and faint.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you find yourself moving to the edge of the bed, falling to your knees. His hand moves across the bedclothes and you take it without thinking. Its callous and rough, but so are yours.

"Rest." You breath out, a smile playing across your lips.

The corner of his mouth twitches, like it did when you dragged him clear of the battle.

You both sit in silence for ages, your hand still clutching his. Your thumb gently stokes the back of his hand and the contact leaves you excited.

His eyes close temporally, sighing out through his broken nose.

"I have a lot to thank you for..." You hadn't expected him to speak and when he did, it was a shock. His voice was still fragile, but he wasn't pushing himself.

"You have nothing to thank me for your highness." You insist gently.

"You save my life and that of my nephew." He continued without pause.

You feel your cheeks warm as his eyes opened again and he looked at you earnestly. He appeared to strain but he shakily brought your hand to his lips and place a single timid kiss to the back of your hand.

You couldn't control the flutter of your heart and the lightheaded feeling you felt as he lowered your hand and gave a genuine smile.

"My king..." You gasp. You close your eyes and lower you head to the mattress beside his shoulder. "I am forever loyal to my king..."


	2. Closed for lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin/F!Reader. Smut and general fluff as well as baked goods. post BOTFA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had trouble with this one. It started off well enough I suppose but it was a dream. (Yes I know...) and dreams fade.   
> let me know what you think and thanks for the support so far!

A warm breeze whistled through Dale on another wonderfully bright summer's day. As the season had dragged on, the temperature had fluctuated drastically, before finally settling into a pleasant warmth that brought the people from their homes and even the dwarves from their mountain, all seeking to enjoy the good weather.

It was coming up to your second year in business in your little bakery and trade was still as good as the day you'd opened.

Dale had taken a fair time to rebuild after Bard had gained funds from the king under the mountain, but no sooner had the work been completed, men, elves and dwarves had flocked back to the city in droves.

You had been one of them.

Your parents were from the beautiful city originally, both bakers, just like you. They'd been lucky enough to escape the dragon attack all those years ago and you were born just west of Bree.

Your parents were long gone by the time the city was rebuilt, but with no real reason to remain, you'd traveled for weeks to the place your parents had called home once upon a time.

You, like many others, couldn't deny that the city under the shadow of the mountain was breathtaking to behold and surprisingly affordable to purchase property in too. Bard was eager to get the city back on its feet, trading between lake town and the mountain. This meant anyone who was skilled enough to open a business was given very fair prices in order to get the economy going again after so many years.

You'd purchased your little bakery, situated just off the main square and in no time you were flooded with custom.

It was both curious and a blessing that you appeared to be the only baker in the city at that moment in time and no one else had moved in to try and steal your top spot.

Many of the regulars joked it was because you were simply too good and your sweet treats were the finest in the land. You were a little more critical of your work however and constantly expected to open up one morning to hear there was another bakery opening across town.

But in two years, it had never happened and you were content to continue unmolested by competition.

This particular morning, you'd been especially busy.

There was a name's day coming up for one of the princes of Erebor and you'd had a special request to make their favorite sweets.

You were surprisingly familiar with the two mischievous princes.

They'd appeared in the shop one day soon after you'd opened, curious to the sweet smell of your fresh baking. Amused by their cheeky antics in your shop, you'd offered them both a slice of fresh cream cake and that was it. They were hooked.

Every other day they visited, buying up all your sticky toffee buns and whole cakes to take back to the mountain for their friends and family.

Apparently the king was partial to your Victoria sponges.

With this said, there was one particular associate of the prince's that had become, more of less, a fixture in the shop.

You smiled and chatted idly with the little old woman you were serving. You'd wrapped up her loaf and payment was exchanged before she waved her goodbye and tootled off out the door, leaving the shop empty. Finally.

You sigh softly and wipe your hands on your apron before returning to the great oven to check on your latest creations.

Kili loved anything sugary. Anything covered in icing sugar, treacle, frosting. He loved it all. In all honesty, it wasn't like he needed the sugar to be a handful. The younger Durin was bouncy first thing in the morning, when most were still half asleep. You were convinced that despite your delicious sponge cakes, their uncle, King Thorin, must curse your name whenever Kili returned to the mountain, practically jittering with a sugar rush.

You were in the process of baking mini souffles, which you'd top with cream and juicy blueberries, when the little bell over the front door tinkled, signalling someone's arrival.

You returned to the shop front, tittering to yourself at the sight of a bald head, covered in tattoos, a thick misshapen nose and a pair of icy blue eyes watching you from over the edge of the counter.

"You're late." You smile, resting your balled fists on your hips.

"I had things to do lass..." Your customer counters. "As much as you'd love me to be here twenty-four hours a day, I actually have important things to do."

You giggle and roll your eyes. "Oh and what a shame that is." You motion over to the door. "Go lock up for me and put the sign round for lunch, will you Dwalin?"

The dwarf grunts and leaves his spot peering over the counter top at you to close the front door. Meanwhile, you untie your apron and wash your hands.

As asked, Dwalin flips the little paper sign on the door to "closed for lunch" and returns to the counter.

"Somethin' smells good." He comments, wringing his hands together as you flip the counter top up to allow him to pass you and head into the back.

"Aye. It's Kili's treats." You reply and follow after him.

Dwalin rounds the large wooden table in the middle of the room and sits himself down, waiting expectantly as you begin to collect up ingredients, ready to make puff pastry.

"What?" You smirk, glancing up from your task. He's drumming his fingers impatiently against the wooden surface of your table.

"Don't 'What' me, lass. I don't trudge down here just to look at yer pretty face." He tells you firmly, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to look frank.

"That's a lie master dwarf and you know it." You wag your finger at him and grin as his stern look cracks. He barks a laugh and grins at you warmly.

"Aye, alright. But honestly, I was expecting at least a cream cake." He says, trying to play it innocent.

You roll your eyes for a second time and leave your ingredients on the table to retreat to the pantry. You know exactly what your looking for. You were used to this game by now.

"I swear..." You sigh, faking sadness as you return to the kitchen carrying a plate of assorted goodies. "You only love me for my baking."

Dwalin's face lights up and you can see him eyeing the plate eagerly.

"Now whose the liar?" He murmurs lowly as you place the plate down in front of him. Before you can pull your hand away however, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down into a waiting kiss.

His lips are rough and his facial hair tickles your soft skin but you melt into him, you legs quivering and eventually buckling.

But you don't hit the ground.

A pair of thickly muscled arms wrap around your middle and before you know whats happening, you're sitting on Dwalin's lap.

The skirts of your dress puff up and the dwarven man is nearly lost in them but neither of you really care.

Your hands sink into his beard, gripping it tightly at the roots and tugging gently. It earns you a light growling sound from Dwalin's chest and you feel your skin prickling with excitement.

This was not new ground for either of you. In fact, you'd been feeding one another's desires for nearly six months now but the sparks of excitement were still as strong now as they were six months back when he'd pinned you against the sink.

You moan wantonly as a tattooed hand begins to frantically wrestle with your skirts, another, more frustrated growl vibrating from his chest and through yours.

He breaks the kiss, growling louder and muttering angrily. You can't help but laugh as he curses.

"Bloody skirts! I dunno why you don't just wear a pair of trousers and let the skirts be damned!" He snapped, more to himself than you.

"I'm making you work for your treat." You chew your lip playfully and tap his scarred nose. He gives you a narrow eyed, irritated look but it doesn't dampen your impish mood.

"I'm not a bloody mutt..." He scowls at you, his hand stilling. You quickly sense he's getting upset and you try to sooth him by placing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

"I know that." You coo. "I was just teasing."

You lean in and kiss him gently, an action that was quite foreign to you both in the highly charged relationship you'd both started. Very rarely did either of you use a gentle touch. Dwalin's huge hands made such affections very awkward and clumsy. At first you'd wondered why. He was a dwarf and even with their over sized hands and fat, sausage like fingers, they created the most beautiful and delicate items of value.

You'd quickly learnt though, that Dwalin was one of many who was built for warfare. He'd worked the forges, yes. It was expected of all dwarves to learn a trade to fall back on in times of need. But at the core, he was a soldier and it suited him.

It just meant that you had to put up with his rough hands and touches that sometimes left bruises that made him look away sheepishly the next time he visited you and apologize vigorously.

Just as you'd expected, he crushes his lips to yours, not a ounce of care to be found. But you don't mind.

Your hand goes to his and pushes it away from your skirts. He'd happily tear them to get to you, but you still have another few hours of trading left after this and you would have no excuse believable enough to satisfy the gossipers.

Fidgeting a little on his lap, you begin to shimmy your skirts up enough for him to grab them with ease and reveal your bare legs, right up to the thighs.

He breaks the kiss then and grins approvingly as he runs his hand up and down your smooth thigh.

"Aye..." He breathes, his eyes dancing with admiration. "Just like marble. perfect and immaculate."

You feel your cheeks warm and you can't help but tug at his torn ear gently. "Oi you." You laugh softly. "Enough of that, you're making me blush."

The look of appreciation in his eyes darkens into something that makes you shudder and causes your stomach to twist lustfully.

"Oh I'll make you blush lass..." His voice is husky and dripping with lust.

Before you can gasp, he grabs your thigh and pulls it across him, so you straddle his waist. In the past you'd worried if you were too heavy for him. But this was a fear that he promptly quashed one day when he heaved you over his wide shoulder and carried you up the stairs into your private living area as if you weighed nothing.

One hand presses against your lower back, pushing your pelvis against his while his other hand slipped under your skirts, fingers finding the material of your undergarments and pulling that them with enough force the steams split and the material fell away in his hand.

"Hey!" You protest with a playful pout. He's grinning like an idiot and you poke his nose. "I still have a shop to run after this you know and this is the third pair you've ruined."

"I'll buy you a new pair." He drawls, leaning to suck and nibble your collarbone. It makes you shiver and moan softly, your hand reaching to rub his bald head. "I'll buy you the best pair any seamstress in Erebor can make. Maybe a little silk pair..."

You can hear the mirth in his voice as he lifts you suddenly and sits you on the edge of the table before sliding you backward.

"Perhaps I'll lay you out..." He pushes on your stomach, forcing you to lay flat on the flour dusted tabled. "And behold the sight of you wearing nothing but the little frilly things..." He lowers his head and you lick your lips, your heart hammering against your ribs. His tongue touches your body, just below your hip and traces a horizontal line across your lower abdomen. "teasin' you as I trace the edges with my tongue." You swallow thickly as he traces the outline of these imaginary panties with the very tip of his tongue.

Not once does he touch your already throbbing core and it makes you bite back a frustrated sound.

All the while, you'd been staring up at the ceiling. There was no use trying to see what he was doing. Your skirts were bunched up over your stomach. You feel his tongue leave your skin and you finally dare to try and lean up to see.

You find him hunched over you, his eyes dark and hungry. The plate of pastries lays forgotten further across the table. You blindly pushed them out of the way when he'd pushed you onto the table. The hunger you could see in his expression wasn't for them. Not yet anyway.

"Would you like that, lass?" He asks you lowly, his thick accent rolling over you and making you tremble.

"Y-Yes..." You gasp out, his hands groping at your thighs before you'd even gotten the single word out.

"Good..."He purrs. "Do you know what I'd do next lass?" You shake your head dumbly. You could think of a few things that you'd love him to do...

He chuckles, the sound deep and thunderous in his chest before he slowly begins to sink down under your skirts again. You find yourself leaning up to follow him, his eyes locked with yours all the while.

You feel his fingers, callous and firm as he spreads you wide. You shiver in anticipation.

His mouth his hot and it seems to cover your sex in one go. You toss your head back, gulping back lungfuls of air. He's done this many times over the past six months. He seems to enjoy it as much as you do.

Your teeth clap down on your bottom lip as his tongue strokes over you, long, lashing licks that leave you panting and whimpering. His closes his mouth over your tiny bundle of nerves and suckles gently. It reduces you to mush in a moments notice.

You collapse back onto the table surface, your eyes rolling back in their sockets.

He sucks so intently while his fingers massage your entrance, now dripping with your desire for him. He teases, occasionally dipping a finger into you, only to pull it back when you moan for more.

He loves that he can do this to you. In a smug, dwarven way, not to be mistaken with that of a man.

Men liked to know they had the power to tease you. The power to reduce you to begging for their body. It made them the ugly sort of smug.

For Dwalin, it was a different type of smugness. The knowledge that he was pleasing you. That you were willing for him to please you and, most importantly, that you desired to be his and only his. That was the smugness he felt. The beautiful kind. The adoring kind.

Pleasure pluses through you and all you can do is lay there, eyes closed, riding it out like your hips ride his mouth. He's too short to reach for and even if you could reach him, he had no hair to hang onto and pull.

You open your mouth, the moans coming without much coaxing and only gaining volume as his thick fingers worm their way into your core.

His tongue begins to stroke your clit with a fierceness, pressing flat against it as his fingers crook and massage your sweet spot.

That's it. Your back arches and your fingers claw at the table top fruitlessly. White hot fire flaring in your lower abdomen. You roll you hips desperately, whining his name, begging him to finish you.

He nips you once before pulling away, his fingers and mouth leaving you. Your climax dies in no time and you want to cry with longing.

You look up at him, your eyes giving away your disappointment.

"There, there now lass." He coos mockingly and reaches to grab the low cut neckline of your bodice, yanking you up with no effort.

He kisses you firmly, his mouth tasting of your need and his beard soaked with it. You mewl against his lips and try to shuffle forward to the edge of the table. You need him to touch you. Your growing frenzied...

"Want me lass?" He rasps against his lips. You can't even find the words you want to use, so you nod and tug at his bottom lip with your teeth. He chuckles again and takes your hand, pressing it against the tented crotch of his leather trousers. You can feel his arousal, thick and hot through the material and you clutch at it like a child would sweets.

Your yearning touch makes him groan and rock his hips against your hand. It isn't enough though for either of you and he releases your hand, his hips pressing into your hands as you rend the laces of his trousers.

He helps you force his trousers down his hips, his length springing free, thick, throbbing and ready.

You both stare down at it in a daze for a moment or two before you shuffle even closer to him, your legs hooking over his hips.

"Don't tease any more." You pant, grabbing fistfuls of his fur collar.

Dwalin doesn't answer. His cock is pressed dangerously close against your womanhood and your bodies twitch with want. He doesn't tease anymore. He grabs your hip with one hand and the other clutches his cock.

You're so wet he slips into you effortlessly and you groan in unison as your bodies connect in the most intimate way.

"Oh princess..." He presses his face to the crook of your neck and you cling to his shoulders for dear life.

He sets a rough pace, which penetrates you deeply, filling you to your limit and still pushing to the point of painful. Its a pleasurable painfulness though and you meet every thrust with your hips.

He ignites your fire again and your body spasms. You toss your head back and claw at his arms and shoulders but he doesn't stop. Quite the opposite in fact. He pumps his hips harder and faster, his member throbbing and scorching your inner sanctum.

"D-Dwalin..I...I can't..." Your throat tightens and sparks crackle through every nerve as you reach your peak and happily throw yourself over the edge.

His thrusts continue until you coil around him so tightly he lets out a strangled yell and fills you with his seed. It's hot and you feel it seeping deep into your body and the feeling is oddly comforting. Sadly, as much as you enjoy it and as much as your would love his seed to take root, you'll have to take a vile concoction brewed up by a local herbalist and try to keep yourself busy to stop yourself from fretting over something you consider such a cruel act.

But a child is not for you. Not for you and Dwalin. It wouldn't be appropriate or moral. He'd have too much to explain and you would find it hard to cope without Dwalin's constant presence, which he could not grantee.

You both remain silent for a long while, his hands lazily stroking your hips as you lay flat out on the table top. Your breathing returns to normal and you turn your gaze to him to find he's watching your face intently.

He murmurs something in the language the dwarves use when they don't want to be understand but you get the idea. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face as you sit up, even when your back groans in protest.

You cup his face with one hand and kiss him tenderly. He doesn't return it. He probably doesn't want to ruin the soft touch with his roughness, but he does do something that surprises you.

He presses his forehead to yours and your eyes widen in surprise.

You'd seen dwarves do such things, not often, but sometimes when they thought no one was looking. It was an intimate act. something which showed care and love for another.

He'd never done it before after a coupling. You didn't expect it either. Maybe what you were doing was a bit of fun. Perhaps you had an unrequited love. You hadn't expected such a show of affection either way.

"You're burning..."

There's a long pause. You were that lost in him you were confused when he spoke.

"What?"

"Whatever you're baking...It's burning." He repeated, adding more detail.

You gasp sharply. Kili's treats! You push Dwalin back. He just so happens to be laughing at the look on your face. You don't spare him a second glance as you hop off the table and rush to the oven.

They're ruined and your heart sinks. You'd have to start all over again and you'll probably be up all night.

Behind you, Dwalin has pulled up his seat and is silently consuming his baked goodies, watching you with a grin as you pout and begin the process of making more souffles for the prince.


	3. May I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Reader. Fili's spent weeks and weeks begging you. Its finally got on your last nerves and finally, you've given in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili always struck me as one of the dwarves that would VERY good as braiding hair and probably helps the others out when they want their hair restyling.

"May I?"

You swallow the groan raising in your throat down with your soup.

He'd been asking the same question every night for weeks, since you'd first joined the company on their quest to reclaim Erebor.

"I thought we'd been over this?" You tell him none too quietly, causing the other members of the company to snicker into their bowls.

Fili blushes lightly in the light of the fire and leans in a little, trying to keep any remaining discussion between the two of you.

"But it looks so...limp and untidy just...hanging there." He hisses at you and you can see the desperate need in his eyes.

"Do you pester Thorin and Kili like this?" You ask, placing down your bowl so you can turn and look him squarely in the face.

"I have no need to." He replies. "It suits them both. But you...You're a lady..."

"Yes I am. Good observation." You cut him off with a coy reply, earning another laugh from your companions surrounding you at the fire side.

"For the love of Aulë Fili..." Thorin huffs from across the camp. "Leave her be."

"But uncle!" He cries. "She looks such a mess!"

"How very dare you." You splutter and look at him, your mouth gaping in outrage. "I'll tell your Ama what you just said Fili!"

He pales and immediately starts to try and correct himself. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cause offence, I was just trying to help."

Behind him, Kili rolls on the floor, clutching his stomach as he laughs.

Huffing, you pick your bowl up again and shuffle closer to Balin, silently irritated as Fili follows.

"Go away Fili."

"Please, I wont ask again...and please don't tell my Ama!"

"That's enough now lad." Dwalin intercepts him. Grabbing the scruff of his coat and dragging him on his bum across the dirt to the other side of the fire next to his uncle.

"I'll tell your Ama if I feel like it." You sneer. "And you will NEVER touch my hair."

Fili looks at you pitifully from over the fire, his younger brother Kili shuffling up next to you to take his place.

"Can I braid your hair?" He whispers before receiving a face full of soup.

-oOo-

Bofur was kind enough to allow you to share his blanket that night.

It was starting to get chilly as the seasons turned and you were quite upset with yourself for not being as prepared as you'd thought you were when you when you first started out.

You were lucky though.

All the company seemed to want to go out of their way to make sure you were comfortable, be it by sharing blankets with Bofur one night and Thorin the next, or borrowing a shirt from Kili (who was roughly your age and size) when you needed something to change into after washing in a nearby river.

You were touched at their kindness, though you weren't too surprised. You'd known most of them most of your life and Fili and Kili in particular. All three of you had grown up together in Ered Luin and their mother, Dís, was very kind to you and your siblings.

The lads were luckier than you. You all had little, but they had a little more then you. They had their Ama and Uncle. Your parents had lost the little hope they had left after you were born and they both died of wasting while you were still a babe.

They'd simply gone through too much.

Those around you banded together to help raise you and your two brothers. Dís and Thorin in particular and you had nothing but adoration for them both for such kindness when Dís had just suffered the loss of her husband.

Bofur had turned his back on you, giving you as much privacy as one could crowded under one blanket. You were grateful though. You couldn't get comfortable on the hard ground and all you found you could do was stare up at the night sky angrily, occasionally fidgeting.

"Psst..."

You heart nearly stops in fright and you lay rigid on the ground.

"Psst..."

You swallow and dare to move your eyes slightly, glancing over toward the noise out of the corners of your eyes.

"I know you're awake. Stop ignoring me."

That was all you needed and you relaxed. You knew who it was now and you almost rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"What?" You murmur lowly. "What is it Fili? I swear your as bad as Kili at times..."

There's a soft scuffling of knees on the dirt as he moves over to you and lays down facing you on his side. He's grinning slyly as he watches you.

"I'm on night watch." He whispers.

"Well go and watch then." You mutter back. You loved this dwarf like a brother, but boy, did he try your patients at times.

"There's nothing going on...And your awake." He whispered back excitedly.

You already knew where this was going.

"No Fili" You groan. "I'm asleep."

"No you're not." He chuckles softly and pokes your side.

You jump and squeak, a sound that seems to send a slight stir through the rest of the group but they quickly settle again.

"Stop it!" You swat at him weakly and give him a hard glare. It has no effect though and you receive a cheeky smirk.

"May I?" He asks, leaning forward a little, his eyes hopeful. You continue to glare as he pokes you again and you swat back. "May I?" He asks again.

Finally, after several minutes of this, you cave and flick his nose. "Fine!" You hiss.

His expression dances with happiness as he sits up and waits for you to do the same. You slither out of the blanket and get up, Fili already up and waiting by the dying fire, poking at it slightly to try and stoke some more light up for us.

You wait for him to kneel down again and cock your eyebrow curiously as he shrugs off his coat and lays it down for you to sit on. You do so without invitation, your back to him.

You'd done this many times before leaving for the journey. It was normal for dwarven women to sit and braid hair late at night after supper, while the family sat together by the fire. Dís had done this many times to you since you were a child.

Now Fili was taking the greatest care in sectioning your hair, each parting carefully planned as if he'd gone over in his mind for ages.

You sit silently, your eyes drifting closed as he works. It's oddly comforting to feel him braid your hair and for a moment to you are lost, your mind returning to The crudely carved hearth in the family room in Thorin and family's chambers while the dwarf himself sat smoking his pipe by the fire while his sister braided the hair of both you and the lads, ready for bed.

"See..." He said suddenly and you flinch.

"See what?" You snap without meaning to.

"You didn't want me to do this... Now look at you." He teases over your shoulder. "You're practically falling into my lap."

You click your tongue as he finishes up and elbow him in the ribs. "Shut up." You laugh softly.

"You look pretty now." He prods you in the back with his finger as you continue to tease one another.

"Prettier then you." You spat back and smirked, running your fingers over the intricate braid's he'd created in your hair.

"Never!" He snorted and shoved your shoulder.

The next morning you receive a lot of questioning looks, but no one says a word as you ride on your pony along side them, proudly sporting your new braids.

Fili of course, had never looked so pleased with himself.


	4. Loyalty to the king part 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Loyalty to the king. Thorin/reader.

You visit him privately for several weeks. Mostly you were left alone, just as Thorin and yourself like it. There had been the odd occasion when either one of his nephews or Balin or Oin would be at the kings bedside as you slipped into his room, but Thorin would do his best to try reassure you your being there wasn't an issue.

You couldn't explain it. It was a surreal feeling to sit at his bedside and read to him or merely talk. The dwarf in the bed beside you was the king. The greatest of all the clans it was said. Yet you spoke so casually it was easy to forget.

"Read to me." He'd asked you one day as you visited.

You didn't want to deny his request, nor did you wish to really carry it out. You weren't academic. You'd become a soldier because muscle was what you were best at like many dwarves you knew.

Never the less, you found yourself with book in hand, reading slowly and quietly, your voice carrying around the stone walls well enough.

Thorin was weak for the longest time, just as Dain had said he would be. He was bedridden for many of your visits. The sheets were clean every time though and he showed no signs of bedsores so you assumed he did move occasionally to stop himself from wasting away.

Although you both spoke quite freely, it became clear he was far more interested in listening to you than doing most of the talking. He asked questions about your life in the Iron Hills, your family, your background.

You told him openly, surprising yourself with just how welcome you felt to speak to him about such things.

You would sit with him until you were either asked to leave by mister Oin or the fire was lit in the hearth in the main room, signalling the fall of darkness. You would stand from your seat and every time, without fail, he would reach for your hand. You'd hesitated at first, flustered and uncomfortable with the kiss he placed upon the back of your hand. But as time went on you did not stop yourself when he reached out.

That's when he would ask again.

"Will you see me tomorrow?"

The question left your stomach in knots but your head always bobbed without your consent, just as your feet always walked toward his chambers the next day.

Time passed and soon Thorin was sitting up in bed. The cuts were now angry scars and the bruises had faded. Deep wounds were still bandaged but they troubled him less and less with each passing week.

His smile grew wider every time you came and he spoke more and more to you. He'd take your hand confidently then, holding it as you talked.

Your every visit left you with a flurry of emotions. Guilt. Pride. devotion. Wariness.

Many of your battalion return to their loved ones in the Iron Hills along with Dain, but you are one of many to remain within Erebor. Not by will or wanting, but out of loyalty and the duty of care you felt toward the injured king.

You gradually took on more responsibility, at Thorin's request. You helped him out of bed on his good days and aided him as he dressed. You tried to consider it a duty. Something to be done in servitude to the king but there was no denying the intimacy within the act.

You were caring for him. You hadn't meant to but that's how it become. And he was grateful for it.

You become his crutch for a while as his legs gained strength, helping him to his chair beside the fire and sitting opposite him as he relaxed with his pipe. You brought him books and fetched things for him when he wanted something from another room. Those who had seen your visits as strange and inappropriate held their tongue as Thorin's recovery began to speed up.

He began walking with a walking stick, you holding his other arm just in case as he started to venture from his chambers. Much had been done while he lay injured and construction to rebuild Erebor was well under way.

That was when he began gifting you.

He gifted you rooms closer to his own. He gifted you small tokens, jewels and beautifully crafted weapons, of which you valued higher than any diamond.

There were many customs that ran deep through Dwarrow society. Customs that went unfulfilled in the sad time while the dwarves of Erebor lived in exile. These customs however, fell back into place as the mountain began to hum with life again.

You tried to push it aside. The feeling of longing you felt. The gifts, you couldn't ignore their meaning if you tried. No matter how awkward it made you feel however, you did not taper off you time with Thorin.

When he was fit enough, he would take a ride to Dale, also under construction, with you at his side. He liked to obsess over your company, insisting you go with him wherever he went.

What had felt awkward at first began to feel mundane and your time together, as well as the gifts, you welcomed as a daily occurrence.

Not once was he unkind or forward. Although he insisted on your company, you did not feel forced and got the impression that at the first sign of reluctance, Thorin would step back and allow you your own time. But you were not reluctant. Spending time with your king made your pride swell and your heart sing.

You accompanied him to the first Durin's day celebration held at Erebor in an age, almost a year to the day you pulled him from death's cold embrace.

The celebration was more a celebration of returning home to the dwarves of the mountain and Thorin was hailed highly. You watched from a half built balcony as he was praised and toasted.

You took the decision to leave that night. To leave Erebor and the king the people now adored. You watched him talk and laugh. He was still limping slightly but he was recovered. He did not need you anymore, or so you thought. It tore you apart but you felt as if your job was done.

Your eyes met. Icy blues captivated by your own gaze. The smile that graced his lips was one that made your body warm and your heart flutter. It made you decision to leave harder to carry out...

You broke his gaze and turned from the balcony, silently leaving the celebrations and walking the halls in a daze.

You found yourself a seat in the half-rebuilt hall of kings, relishing the silence that almost deafened you. You'd received word from your family in the Iron hills and they were curious as to when you'd return to them. You did long to see them again. It had been just a little under a year since you'd seen your beloved ones back in your family's halls.

So deep were you in thought, you missed the sound of nearing, lonely footsteps.

You gasped as callous yet gentle fingers caressed your chin and along your jaw. You don't need to look up from your seat to see who it was. Only one would touch you so boldly.

He breathed your name so airily it made you shudder before you raised your eyes to meet his.

He did not say another word as he lowered himself to sit beside you, your body turning toward him without a moments thought. His hands cupped your jaw, holding it steady as he leaned to place a single, tender kiss to your lips.

The simple motion had you undone in a moments notice.

You did not deny him further kisses, each growing bolder with every touch you did not resist. You melted against him in sweet surrender, unwilling to fight against your love for your king any longer.

Thorin held your heart and you held his and as tradition dictated, you asked for your beloved's hand, of which, Thorin gave freely and with a smile that proved to you this was the right thing.


End file.
